


Edith Victoria: Act 1, All Routes

by runaruan



Series: Edith Victoria [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Action, Drama, Reader-Interactive, Romance, Steampunk, Visual Novel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 00:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19878592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runaruan/pseuds/runaruan
Summary: A story about a young woman coming of age in the service of her god-prince. Her choices will guide the world into a new era. Steampunk elements, drama, action, and romance.Visual novel draft with 9 separate outcomes and routes. (A, B, C - 1, 2, 3)





	1. Chapter 1

| 

We’ve been standing here for past a full hour now for our morning roll call. Beside me are three of my creche brothers.  
  
---|---  
| 

We all stand at military ease in our gray melton uniforms, and they’re as uncomfortable as it looks.  
  
| 

Wool is cheap here in the Empire.   
  
| 

I try not to shift my feet too much in the heat. I feel a trickle of sweat bead down past my temple.   
  
| 

The braziers in the training room are at full blast. Our esteemed guest is rumored to hate the chill morning air.  
  
| 

I dig my fingertips into my gloved palms. I fight the temptation to scratch at the small of my back.  
  
| 

All we have heard for the past hour was the constant ticking of the clock’s gears behind us.   
  
| 

But my ears prick at the sound of a young man’s voice  
  
???

| 

“Mighty typical for them to have us wait, hand and foot.”  
  
| 

Another creche brother responds.  
  
???

| 

“What is taking them so long?”  
  
| 

I breathe in before murmuring to the two boys standing next to one another.  
  
???

| 

“Quiet down. Thomas, Byron.”  
  
| 

Byron clears his throat and rotates his shoulders while Thomas shifts a little in his wool uniform. The latter flashes a grin.  
  
Thomas

| 

“How much are you willing to bet that the Baron will choose me?”  
  
| 

I resist rolling my eyes.   
  
Byron

| 

“Would anyone really think that the Baron Roland Resnik could ever resist our beloved Thomas? You are absolutely too adorable to miss.”  
  
| 

I part my mouth to intervene, but Thomas speaks before I could say anything.  
  
Thomas

| 

“And with this cute face? Who’d ever say no to uncontested top wielder of the creche?”  
  
| 

Byron smirks.  
  
Byron

| 

“I wager one day of cleaning the latrines should Thomas _not_ be chosen. The baron will surely see that he is only good for trouble-making.”  
  
| 

Thomas chuckles lightly.  
  
Thomas

| 

“One day? Would anyone wager for two?”  
  
| 

Thomas’ clear gray eyes shift over to me. An utterance forms at my lips but the last creche brother beats me to it. His voice is soft, gentle, but wavering.  
  
???

| 

“E-Everyone knows that Thomas has the best chance of being chosen.”  
  
| 

Byron grins and counters.  
  
Byron

| 

“Oh? So Alan Aurelius wants to wager too? A full week, then.”  
  
Alan

| 

“T-two weeks.”  
  
Byron

| 

“A _month,_ ”  
  
| 

My patience has run dry. I shout.  
  
???

| 

“Covey!”  
  
| 

They barely stifle their chuckles. Alan quietly adds.  
  
Alan

| 

“What k-kind of man do you think the baron is?”   
  
Byron

| 

“To even want to patron a creche child automatically makes him charitable in my book.”  
  
| 

Thomas spat under his breath.  
  
Thomas

| 

“As if being the Empire’s rejects weren’t shameful enough?”   
  
Byron

| 

“It’s not like we’re left to hang high and dry here, Thomas. The Empire spends quite the fortune on the creche.”  
  
Thomas

| 

“What’re you saying? We’re not that much more above common slaves.”  
  
| 

Their conversation has gone on long enough. I almost shout at them.  
  
???

| 

“Quiet!”  
  
???

| 

“Now’s not the time to talk!”  
  
???

| 

“Thomas is right, but we need to focus!”  
  
Thomas

| 

“Our apologies, Covey Commander.”  
  
???

| 

“Continue on and you’ll all clean the latrines for speaking during roll call.”  
  
Byron

| 

“Understood, Covey Commander.”  
  
| 

Almost immediately, I hear the quickened footsteps of hard soles, followed by the rumbling tottering of boots.   
  
| 

I could see from the corner of my one eye a floating black spectre. The red lining of her black order veil gently billowed outwards and not even a single hair from her head was left shown.   
  
| 

The prayer beads by her left hip jingled with each of her movements.   
  
| 

I knew her to be our mother superior: Mother Rhoda. She was in charge of the creche and looked the part.   
  
| 

She had a stern and discerning face, and her lips were tightly sealed. They rarely curled into a smile.  
  
| 

The man that followed her waddled like a plump goose. He donned an elaborately rich satin shirt embroidered with eastern motifs and black leather breeches.   
  
| 

He stroked his thick black beard with one hand as he swung a silver cane in the other. The man adjusted a pair of square spectacles on his reddened cheekbones before eyeing us with a critical gaze.  
  
| 

The woman approached us and stood in front of our formation beside. She began to speak with rumbling authority.  
  
Mother Rhoda

| 

“Baron Roland Resnik, I present to you the 709th covey, Creche of the Empire.”  
  
| 

I fill my chest with a sharp breath.  
  
???

| 

“Covey, attention!”  
  
| 

I clip my heels and the boys beside me fall sharply in line.  
  
| 

The man inspected the covey with his deep brown eyes and pointed the tip of his silver cane at Byron. He spoke with a peculiar eastern accent.   
  
Baron Roland

| 

“Tell me of this one, Mother Superior.”   
  
Mother Rhoda

| 

“Byron Nathaniel from the House of Cerna, Natalia of the East. He was given to us at thirteen years.”  
  
Baron Roland

| 

“And his parentage?”  
  
| 

The mother superior hesitated, if only for a brief second.   
  
Mother Rhoda

| 

“His mother was Milena Natalia, one of our previous creche children. She was sent to become the field clerk of the Earl Fromann and fell pregnant. They attempted to raise him under his father’s name, but it strained relations with his father’s wife.”  
  
| 

The baron spoke while inhaling a breath, almost in a yawn.  
  
Baron Roland

| 

“Typical. A bastard child sent away. And what of his forté?”  
  
Mother Rhoda

| 

“As you well know, all creche children are given an exemplary education in the military arts. Byron’s wielding is just about average in skill, but he is a formidable marksman."  
  
| 

The baron’s wide nose twitched.   
  
Baron Roland

| 

“So he is everything but extraordinary? How is his health?”  
  
Mother Rhoda

| 

“He has passed his Reckoning."  
  
| 

The baron scoffed.  
  
Baron Roland

| 

“Even if he is healthy, it does not guarantee that any of his offspring would be.”  
  
| 

I tighten my cheeks and bite softly on its flesh while the baron shifts his gaze towards Thomas. The baron moves towards him. There’s a considerable size difference between them.  
  
| 

The baron pinches a tuft of strawberry blond hair from Thomas’ head.  
  
Baron Roland

| 

“And what is this one doing here? He is so small that I barely noticed him. Why do you present a _boy_ to me?”   
  
| 

The mother superior’s countenance remained still.  
  
Mother Rhoda

| 

“This is Thomas Rayner from the House of Cerna, Rayna of the South. He was given to us in infancy.”  
  
Baron Roland

| 

“Ah, and what of his parentage?”  
  
Mother Rhoda

| 

“We are unaware. All we are certain of is that he is healthy. If I may state again, he is a Rayner by all accounts.”  
  
Baron Roland

| 

“We've enough Rayners in my household. And his progeny could take ill."  
  
| 

The baron smacked Thomas’ side with a flattened palm, though Thomas didn’t react and remained stoic.  
  
Baron Roland

| 

“He’s barely tall enough to be a proper man.”  
  
| 

I struggled to keep composure. He had no reason to touch Thomas, nevertheless slap him.  
  
Mother Rhoda

| 

“Despite his physical stature, his wielding is exemplary. He is talented and will be of great use to any bloodline.”  
  
| 

I was relieved by the mother superior’s words. But the baron spared no moment to dwell on Thomas any further.   
  
Baron Roland

| 

“Even more so, I am not looking for a strong wielder. They are more trouble than they are worth these days, even a Rayner.”   
  
| 

The baron sneered and his eyes settled on Alan next.  
  
Baron Roland

| 

“Is this your eldest?”   
  
Mother Rhoda

| 

“Yes. Alan Aurelius from the House of Cerna, Aurelia of the Soul. We are unaware of his father’s identity and his mother is lowborn. As such, he was birthed right here in the creche.”   
  
Mother Rhoda

| 

“His forté is in alchemy, though he is nearly incapable of wielding.”  
  
| 

The baron snorted.  
  
Baron Roland

| 

“Poor wielding due to his poor breeding.”  
  
| 

_What a boor!_ I silently cursed.  
  
Baron Roland

| 

“But an Aurelius you say?”   
  
Mother Rhoda

| 

“Yes.”  
  
| 

The baron rubbed his chin, his beard hairs scruffing loudly.  
  
Baron Roland

| 

“I will keep that in solid consideration.”  
  
| 

He then turned and took on a look of surprise as if he did not sense my presence.  
  
Baron Roland

| 

**“** What’s this girl doing here?”  
  
| 

He took a long moment to examine me. The baron grabbed his cane from his left hand and used it to prod at my heel and calves. He then tapped the side of my thigh as if was checking the muscle density of cattle.   
  
| 

I tried my best to not react, though I’m sure I flinched a little in annoyance.  
  
Baron Roland

| 

“She’s rather large for a woman, is she not?”  
  
| 

The mother superior responded in a flat tone.  
  
Mother Rhoda

| 

“It is because her kin are renowned to be tall.”   
  
| 

I could feel the baron’s severe eyes on me. The mother superior spoke clearly.  
  
Mother Rhoda

| 

“This is Edith Victoria from the House of Cerna, Victoria of the West. She is also this covey’s commander.”   
  
| 

He threw his chin back a little.  
  
Baron Roland

| 

“Ah yes, I’ve heard of this one: The youngest daughter to the former Earl Chauncey.”  
  
| 

My eyes shifted towards him the moment I heard my father’s name. The baron locked his gaze with me.  
  
Baron Roland

| 

“Pity.”  
  
| 

He looked away and stepped towards the mother superior.  
  
Baron Roland

| 

“She is reasonably handsome in the face, although the rest of her is in want of less meat and more suppleness.”  
  
Baron Roland

| 

“Tell me, mother superior, why do you bother to present a member of a fallen house to me? Is she available for purchase?”  
  
Mother Rhoda

| 

“The creche is a haven of all children blessed with the blood of Cerna. It does not discriminate between those of valid social standing or not.”  
  
Mother Rhoda

| 

“As to why she is here, it is procedure to present all in the covey at once. She is also responsible for witnessing any transactions considering her subordinates as its commander.”   
  
| 

Her voice grew steely.  
  
Mother Rhoda

| 

“And allow me to remind His Baronship that you _can_ purchase her, should you decide to challenge the crown’s calling for her.”   
  
Baron Roland

| 

“This girl, then,”   
  
Mother Rhoda

| 

“This _girl_ is our tribute to the crown. Even though she is female, we have not produced a finer candidate balanced in combat and wielding. She would put most of the Empire’s Champions to shame even with just her martial prowess.”  
  
| 

I could feel the baron’s eyes digging into me. He circled about with his cane in hand.   
  
Baron Roland

| 

“As expected from her bloodline. Out of all that is left, it seems that you have kept the jewels for the crown.”  
  
Baron Roland

| 

“She is just like her sister. Chauncey must be writhing in his grave knowing that his beloved daughters are in service to the royals.”  
  
| 

I could feel heat rise at the back of my ears. I didn’t know my father well, but it still bothered me to hear others speak ill of him.  
  
Baron Roland

| 

“Ah, or _will be_ , in this one’s case.”  
  
Mother Rhoda

| 

“What does the baron wish?”   
  
| 

The baron stepped back to Alan.  
  
Baron Roland

| 

“My patronage for another full year for Alan Aurelius, twenty keystones.”   
  
| 

I could sense Alan’s face paling. My lips parted in shock. _That’s such a low offer!_  
  
| 

The mother superior was incredulous.  
  
Mother Rhoda

| 

“Baron Roland, we could hardly-”  
  
Baron Roland

| 

“You said it yourself, he has few talents save for his alchemy. He would be lucky to be bought by anyone.”   
  
| 

Stunned silence stilled the air. The baron sighed and hung his wrists.  
  
Baron Roland

| 

“You must give me a little more leverage, mother superior. I am, after all, doing the creche a favor. The tariffs are severe in the east and keystones are becoming more rare to come by.”  
  
| 

There was a subtle sullen look on the mother superior’s face.  
  
Mother Rhoda

| 

“Understood, Baron Roland.”   
  
| 

She bowed her head and gestured to the door.  
  
Mother Rhoda

| 

“Let us retreat to my study, then, to sign the ledger. Alan and Edith, you are to come with us. The rest of you, dismissed.”  
  
| 

As I fell out of line to approach the doors, I could hear Thomas murmuring to Byron.  
  
Thomas

| 

“Here’s to one month of latrine duty.”


	2. Chapter 2

| 

I held the ivory quill and pressed its steel nib upon a smooth sheet of cream vellum paper.   
  
---|---  
  
| 

Thin scratches of black ink ran forth: _Edith Victoria from the House of Cerna, Victoria of the West, 709th Covey_  
  
| 

Directly above my signature was Alan’s. I took a moment before adding: _Creche of the Empire_  
  
| 

Brass-laden bells chimed to mark the hour. Their bellowing rings sent tiny swallows aflutter throughout the creche’s stone cloisters.   
  
| 

One bird in particular made its way into the mother superior’s study and perched itself by the windowsill.   
  
| 

The little winged creature began singing its summer melody. I gave it a glance while it cocked its head mindlessly at us.  
  
| 

I slid the leather-bound book to Mother Rhoda. She produced her own signature below mine with a swift and efficient hand: _The Mother Superior Rhoda Valen from the House of Ley, 668th Convent, Creche of the Empire_  
  
| 

Baron Roland’s brown eyes shifted as he watched Mother Rhoda sign the vellum ledger. He reached into his pants pocket to check his golden watch. Finally, the baron clasped the watch shut before speaking.  
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“In one month’s time my fool of a girl will have a husband and I a son in-law. Provided that I buy Alan Aurelius’ life for twenty keystones.”  
  
| 

He drew forth an item that he carried under a red velvet cover. The baron pulled away the soft fabric to reveal a small wooden box with an elaborate crest. As he placed it on Mother Rhoda’s large study desk, a cloud of dust puffed away from its impact.  
  
| 

The sunlight from the study’s narrow windows flickered off the jewels encased within the box. They were crystalline and smooth in appearance and they had an unusual sparkle.   
  
| 

It was as if there was a tiny magical creature trapped in each jewel, shooting out an ever-changing prismatic array of colors.  
  
| 

The baron drew out a pair of steel tweezers from a velvet drawstring bag and began to extract each small stone from the box. His left hand shook so violently that it barely held the tool together.   
  
| 

Sweat ran from the baron’s temples as he painstakingly placed each keystone onto the mother superior’s desk.  
  
| 

I stared at his gloved hands and darted my eyes away to avoid impropriety.   
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“These are fine keystones,”   
  
| 

Mother Rhoda's eyes counted each glimmering stone. The only difference in each was the brightness of color, though all were of the same exact size.  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“There are twenty.”  
  
| 

He placed the tweezers by the box and his left hand returned to a normal steadiness.   
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“They were mined in the far east where they are absolutely ignorant of their use in the Empire,”   
  
| 

He then pulled a tortoiseshell loupe out from his chest pocket.   
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“And before we seal this transaction, we must test my newfound property.”  
  
| 

My lips part but I pause to look for reassurance from Mother Rhoda.  
  
| 

She shifted her brown eyes to me and back to the baron. Her speech was slow and careful.  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“With all due respect, Baron Roland, Alan Aurelius is-”  
  
| 

The baron gestured to the jewels.  
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“The keystones will show if he is a weak wielder. He has nothing to be afraid of. You have stated yourself that these are fine stones-perhaps the best the east has to offer. And besides, he is an Aurelius, is he not?”  
  
| 

The mother superior could not eek out another word in reply.  
  
| 

After a few tense moments of silence, the baron sighed and grabbed one of Alan’s wrists. Alan flinched and the baron stripped him of his leather glove. Alan's face went white.  
  
| 

I jumped a little, but held my breath and swallowed it to avoid shouting. He was already treating Alan as property.  
  
| 

The Baron Roland then plucked a keystone from the pile with his metal tweezers. He forced a jewel upon Alan’s bare palm and lifted his loupe over his eye.   
  
| 

The keystone sparked feebly. A weak light illuminated the room, but it flickered like a candle going out in the middle of the night.  
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“He is fortunate that he is an Aurelius,”  
  
| 

Alan paled but could not dare pull his trembling hand away. The baron was still examining the jewel through the loupe.  
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“Weak, but an Aurelius nevertheless. Immune to the sickness.”  
  
| 

He then lowered the lens and motioned to me.  
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“Now the girl.”  
  
(Route A)

| 

_(Don’t resist.)_  
  
(Route B)

| 

“No.”  
  
(Route C)

| 

“Why?”  
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“For comparison. I must know what the _best_ looks like. Surely this isn’t an inconvenient task for the tribute to indulge in?”  
  
| 

My eyes checked the Mother Superior before she gave a nod of approval.   
  
| 

I rip my left glove off before more could be said. I slam the glove on the table to make my feelings abundantly clear.  
  
| 

I firmly grab a keystone and present it on my outstretched palm. I could feel the warmth and coolness of the stone against my skin.  
  
| 

I do this all without breaking my gaze on the baron. I’m sure I looked defiant.  
  
| 

I close my eyes and exhale.  
  
| 

I hear a crackle a beautiful low melodic hum. When I open my eyes I see that the stone is bright, shining, and sparkling.  
  
| 

Colors dance rhythmically against the walls of mother superior’s study.  
  
| 

The baron’s nose sneers a bit as he looks at my palm through his loupe.  
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“It is white. Pure white. Strong. And most importantly healthy.”   
  
| 

Mother Rhoda slips a soft smile to me.  
  
| 

Baron Roland looked away from his loupe and snatched the keystone from my palm.  
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“Had she been a boy, I would’ve been tempted to challenge the crown and pay a hundred times more.”  
  
| 

The baron slid the loupe back into his chest pocket and patted it shut. He then busied himself with writing his name on the ledger with blocked, obtuse letters typical of eastern handwriting.  
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“But alas, she is not,”  
  
| 

Mother Rhoda adds quickly.  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“and it should not matter that she is not.”  
  
| 

The baron scoffed.  
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“I’m sure you are aware that it has been nearly three centuries since we’ve had a female tribute from the creche. Whatever made you think that _this one_ would be wasted on the Emperor as his Aegis is beyond me.”  
  
| 

I could feel my lower lip tensing.  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“Do you take offense at her sex, Baron Roland?”  
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“She is a woman. Her sex requires that she be pulled from duty for her-”  
  
| 

He made an inward glower.  
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“Womanly functions.”  
  
| 

The mother superior breathed in exasperation.  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“Blessed be. Such _womanly functions_ never stopped the most capable of Cerna’s consorts, has it?”  
  
| 

The baron furrowed his brows.  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“I will remind you, as well, that Edith _is_ a descendant of Victoria. Her family lineage proves it and has been recorded since the time of Cerna.”  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“Without her clan and their progeny, the Empire would have fallen before it could flourish.”  
  
| 

The baron’s silence was a sign of his concession. He let out a loud sigh.  
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“Regardless, I do not envy her. Politics will test her soon enough. There’s much to be said about the rebels encroaching in the east and the constant waves of corruption plaguing creatures throughout the Empire.”  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“I am surprised that you aren’t considering any more of the creche.”  
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“That all depends on the Duke Aireval’s whim. He believes his forces are efficient, and I believe that he is a liar.”  
  
| 

The baron glanced sharply at Alan.  
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“He will be put to work, absolutely. His alchemic skills will provide for the Empire. Other than studding offspring, his days will be spent in comfort creating pomaces, potions, and the like.”  
  
| 

The baron patted Alan’s shoulder and chuckled.   
  
| 

I could feel my face twist a little in disgust.


	3. Chapter 3

| 

_Slam!_  
  
---|---  
  
| 

I slunk against a heavy oak door. The cloister was quiet and the rest of the creche was currently at tea hour.  
  
**Edith**

| 

“Thank goodness that’s over.”  
  
| 

As I turned to glance at Alan I could see him grabbing his brown hair in both hands.   
  
**Edith**

| 

“What’s the matter?”  
  
**Alan**

| 

“What’s the matter?!”  
  
| 

It was unusual for him to raise his voice, nevertheless exclaim without a stammer. His thin brows knitted together from underneath wispy strands.  
  
**Alan**

| 

“T-t-that horrid man is going to be my _father_! Could you imagine how he’d treat me?”  
  
| 

My voice shook a little. In truth it felt that I might’ve been trying to convince myself, too.  
  
**Edith**

| 

“That may be true, but your fiance could be the opposite? You may even enjoy her company, and she yours.”  
  
| 

Alan paced frantically. His words cracked.  
  
**Alan**

| 

“ _M-may_? Emphasis on possibility, not even probability!”  
  
| 

His leather boots clicked against the courtyard cobblestones with hardened taps. He turned to me and wrung his hands out.  
  
**Alan**

| 

“Evey, do you think I’m even ready for this?”  
  
| 

I paused before answering him. I wanted to give him an honest and sincere answer. I scratched the corner of my lip.  
  
**Edith**

| 

“I’m a bit at a loss here, Alan. This is something we’ve all expected at one time or another, right?”  
  
| 

An ever-gentle salty breeze kissed the back of my neck. I laid my palm softly there to stop the sensation.  
  
| 

Alan continued to pace. He held his head in his hands and muffled into the crook his arms.  
  
**Alan**

| 

“Why did he want to take a c-c-reche boy-out of all things?”  
  
**Edith**

| 

“Creche _man_. You’re an adult now, Alan. A young adult, but older than the rest of us.”  
  
| 

I took a few steps towards him while shaking my head.  
  
**Edith**

| 

“It seems the Baron was specifically looking for a bachelor from the House of Cerna. Guessing that he is already stricken it’s just the best thing to do.”  
  
**Alan**

| 

“What makes you so sure?”  
  
**Edith**

| 

“Didn’t you see that hand of his? He’s fallen ill, and has been for awhile from what it looks like. He might’ve been looking for a healthy son-in-law. And you being an Aurelius, it’s a guarantee. You’d have children that wouldn’t get sick or die suddenly.”  
  
| 

Alan released his face from his arms and sighed.  
  
**Alan**

| 

“That man _will_ be the death of me. What do I do, Evey? What do I do?”  
  
| 

For a moment I thought about Thomas and Byron. Being bought was probably Alan’s most optimistic outcome.  
  
| 

I crossed my arms.  
  
**Edith**

| 

“As much as I _do_ want to feel sympathy for you, your future is secured under a strong barony. Baron Roland is a competent man, he’s kept his lands free from the rebels and has been able to iron out secure alliances.”  
  
**Edith**

| 

“Though I agree that his attitude is classist at best. I’m sure he’s willing to tolerate you, provided you...well...”  
  
| 

Alan scowled, an expression unbecoming of his usually soft countenance.  
  
**Alan**

| 

“So all I’m good for is s-studding offspring? I’m not some stallion!”  
  
**Edith**

| 

“But it’s what he’s buying you for. Be reminded that your duties are to his daughter, firstly, himself second. Besides, it is not like you are being sent to the Spire.”  
  
**Alan**

| 

“As if dying a slow and painful death was b-better?”  
  
| 

I offered a meek shrug.  
  
| 

Alan was always so emotional. It was his greatest weakness, and it kept him from self-improvement.  
  
**Edith**

| 

“Alan, if you could just think about the others…”  
  
| 

Alan uncharacteristically cut me off.  
  
**Alan**

| 

“If you had you just b-been born a bo-”  
  
| 

He caught the word in his throat.  
  
(Route A)

| 

_“That’s irrelevant, because I’d still be the tribute.”_  
  
(Route A) **Edith**

| 

“And you’d still be selected because of that, and because you are an Aurelius. It wouldn’t have changed a thing.”  
  
(Route A)

| 

I glanced to the side and focused my eyes on a fountain. There were birds cheerfully bathing themselves in the cool water.  
  
(Route A) **Edith**

| 

“More and more infants are dying from the sickness. Wielding is too risky for most, unless you are well-bred and your ancestry well-known. Thomas is an exception, obviously.”  
  
(Route A)

| 

I looked to Alan.  
  
(Route A)

| 

“It’s safer to invest in a bloodline that is immune to the sickness, even if their wielding weakens.”  
  
(Route A) **Alan**

| 

“I’m not arguing his points, I’m j-just...not sure why it had to be me.”  
  
(Route A) **Edith**

| 

“Because you’re an Aurelius. There was nothing we could’ve been able to do either way. If you have anything to blame, blame your birthright.”  
  
(Route B)

| 

_“Had I **what**?”_  
  
(Route B)

| 

Alan gulped but took a moment to find courage.   
  
(Route B) **Alan**

| 

“Had you been a boy, the baron would have chosen you inst-”  
  
(Route B)

| 

_Thwack!_  
  
(Route B)

| 

Alan stumbled over with a reddened cheek.  
  
(Route B) **Edith**

| 

“You’re a selfish fool, Alan Aurelius, and you know it.”  
  
(Route B)

| 

Alan rotated his jaw, got back to his feet, and dusted his knees.  
  
(Route B)

| 

I felt pretty indignant.  
  
(Route B) **Edith**

| 

“And think a little!”  
  
(Route B)

| 

Silence.   
  
(Route B) **Edith**

| 

“If I was a boy, I would have gladly gone in your stead. I would have gone no matter how much I detested the baron.”  
  
(Route B) **Edith**

| 

“I would have been happy that your life was secure and that it was due to my efforts. Yes, this whole situation is wrong, but-”  
  
(Route B)

| 

I was exasperated.  
  
(Route B) **Edith**

| 

“This was simply the best we could do for you.”  
  
(Route C)

| 

_(Cross your arms.)_  
  
(Route C)

| 

Alan slowly glanced up at me and noticed I had been looking at him quite disapprovingly. His words fell short.  
  
(Route C) **Alan**

| 

“-b-boy.”  
  
(Route C)

| 

My eyes narrowed slightly.  
  
(Route C) **Edith**

| 

“By all means, continue. Tell me how my being male would’ve changed all this.”  
  
(Route C) **Edith**

| 

“Say it.”  
  
(Route C) **Alan**

| 

“....”  
  
(Route C) **Edith**

| 

“Right, because you know that even if I were a boy, I’d still be tribute. Unless you can change all that, there’s really nothing to be said.”  
  
(Route C) **Edith**

| 

“Think about Thomas and Byron.”  
  
| 

A look of absolute shame etched across Alan’s face. He murmured.  
  
**Alan**

| 

“I’m sorry. I-I guess I cannot compare to you, Evey.”  
  
| 

I felt a slight embarrassment for him. I reached out and rested my gloved hands on his shoulders. He wasn’t much shorter than me, if even that.  
  
| 

I knew myself to be tall, and it bothered me a bit growing up. I failed to hold the same feminine charms as my creche sisters. But it was a blessing in the end.  
  
| 

I was constantly set against my brothers because of my height. It was competition on equal ground, regardless of my sex. I doubt I would’ve become tribute without that experience.  
  
| 

Alan had told me countless times that he saw me as an older sister because of my competence, but in truth I knew it to be a side-effect of my height and posture.  
  
| 

And because, in truth, Alan never had the temperament nor the willpower to be anything but soft-hearted.  
  
**Edith**

| 

“Here.”  
  
| 

Alan looked at me with his large blue eyes. He looked like a poor puppy.  
  
**Alan**

| 

“If only I’d grown stronger. M-maybe then I could have protected myself and maybe even you.”  
  
| 

I smiled, but I was sure he saw it as a grin.  
  
**Edith**

| 

“You really think you could?”  
  
**Alan**

| 

“Don’t be so mean, I’m s-erious.”  
  
(Route A) **Edith**

| 

“You’re a talented healer, Alan. You’ll provide well for the Empire and I’m sure her troops will thank you for it.”  
  
(Route A) **Edith**

| 

“We’ll probably meet later in life and laugh at all the things that we were afraid of.”  
  
(Route A) **Alan**

| 

“Evey…”  
  
(Route B) **Edith**

| 

“I’m serious too.”   
  
(Route B) **Edith**

| 

“We don’t have to state the obvious. I’m not cruel enough to say it often but I will point it out, especially when you’re making flighty declarations.”  
  
(Route B) **Edith**

| 

“Nothing would’ve changed.”  
  
(Route C) **Edith**

| 

“You’re forgetting everyone else. I’m not just your covey commander, I’m everyone’s.”  
  
(Route C) **Edith**

| 

“Though I obviously attached to you, I do have a duty to Thomas and Byron still.”  
  
| 

Alan sighed.  
  
**Alan**

| 

“You’re the closest thing to a sister I have.”  
  
| 

I offered him my outstretched arms, and like a small child he meekly stepped into my embrace.  
  
| 

He muttered into my shoulder.  
  
**Alan**

| 

“I don’t wish for us to part, Evey.”  
  
**Edith**

| 

“I don’t either.”  
  
| 

Alan released his hold. He grinned.  
  
**Alan**

| 

“Did you know that my mother came to the creche with just four k-keystones?”  
  
**Edith**

| 

“Really now?”  
  
**Alan**

| 

“I guess I have increased in value, right?”  
  
| 

I smiled.  
  
**Edith**

| 

“I would’ve bought you with a hundred times as much.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested Listening: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7J208nqhqS4

| 

Alan and I continued to talk in the peaceful setting of the cloister.  
  
---|---  
  
| 

I don’t know how many times we circled the grounds until Mother Rhoda came out of her study. It must have been mid-afternoon by the time we stopped.  
  
| 

Both Alan I bowed our heads to our mother superior before she greeted us.  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“Alan, you are requested to come to Mother Grete for a moment. Edith Victoria,”  
  
| 

She motioned to a flight of stairs nearby.   
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“A word, please.”  
  
| 

I was apprehensive that she would berate me for my behavior earlier.  
  
| 

But I couldn’t let him treat Alan in such a way. We may be from the creche, but we should be allowed some measure of pride.  
  
| 

I answered her.  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“Yes, mother superior.”  
  
| 

We nodded to Alan, and with a brisk bow he excused himself to the inner creche corridors.  
  
| 

I looked to Mother Rhoda and with each step towards me her prayer beads jingled.   
  
| 

Her slender hand reached out to me and I instinctively offered my elbow. She was too elderly to climb the stairs with any measure of ease.  
  
| 

As our feet slowly planted against each cobblestone step I found myself thinking about what to say in my defense. I couldn’t think of anything.  
  
| 

Once we arrived at the open landing, I could see the grand panorama of the Wayward Sea before us. The sea breeze was gentle and pleasant.   
  
| 

The air sang with the soft waves crashing upon the smoothed stone pillars of the break waters. Cliff birds cried out their high trill melodies to one another.  
  
| 

Several flocks swept and glided on the water in pretty dancing masses. The faint glowing silhouette of the moon looked down at us among the sun's beams.  
  
| 

I inhaled the salty air. This was the creche-my home.  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“I forget how statuesque you can be, my girl. You are like a heraldic banner waving in these winds.”  
  
| 

My eyes looked over to the mother superior.  
  
| 

She released her hold on my arms and stood before me, her hands clasped behind the small of her back. The sea breeze fluttered her black cleric’s habit out softly.  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“Your behavior to the baron, Edith Victoria-”  
  
(Route A)

| 

_(Apologize.)_  
  
(Route A)

| 

She was referring to how I slammed my fist on the table.  
  
(Route A) **Edith**

| 

“It was reprehensible. I should have been less forceful.”  
  
(Route A) **Mother Rhoda**

| 

“No, it is alright. Your strong sense took over.”  
  
(Route A) **Mother Rhoda**

| 

"Your idea of an appropriate delivery, however..."  
  
(Route A) **Mother Rhoda**

| 

“I only mean to remind you that you will be surrounded by those who could take deeper offenses, and demand deeper consequences."  
  
(Route A) **Mother Rhoda**

| 

“You may be descended from nobility, but remember that you are no longer privy to their protections, nor their benefits.”  
  
(Route A) 

| 

I slowly hung my head. She was right. I was from a disgraced family.   
  
(Route B)

| 

_(Defend your behavior.)_  
  
(Route B) **Edith**

| 

“He’s been insulting us the moment he stepped foot in the creche.”  
  
(Route B) **Edith**

| 

“Despite being who he is, his lack of deference is appalling. I will be Aegis, most of all.”  
  
(Route B) **Mother Rhoda**

| 

“Ah, but you are _not_ at the moment.”  
  
(Route B) **Edith**

| 

“Even so, I will not stand for that kind of treatment while he is here, especially towards Alan.”  
  
(Route B)

| 

The mother superior’s dark eyes looked to the swaying sea.  
  
(Route B) **Mother Rhoda**

| 

“Edith Victoria,”  
  
(Route B) **Mother Rhoda**

| 

“Please do not lose sight of the fact that you are no longer your father’s daughter.”  
  
(Route B) **Mother Rhoda**

| 

“You are a child of the Empire. You represent the best of us.”  
  
(Route B)

| 

I looked away from the mother superior.  
  
(Route B) **Edith**

| 

“Then I have even more reason to uphold her honor.”  
  
(Route B) **Mother Rhoda**

| 

“Remember that a heavy price was paid for it, especially from your family. Be careful, Edith Victoria.”  
  
(Route B)

| 

I gazed at Mother Rhoda and tightened my lips.   
  
(Route C)

| 

_(Reassure her.)_  
  
(Route C) **Edith**

| 

“Do not worry, Mother Superior, I will temper it.”  
  
(Route C) **Mother Rhoda**

| 

“I am not worried about that, girl. I’m worried about your attitude turning loose on the wrong person.”  
  
(Route C) **Edith**

| 

“It’s not as if-”  
  
(Route C)

| 

I bit my lower lip.  
  
(Route C) **Mother Rhoda**

| 

“You cannot stand up for everyone. The slightest offenses _will_ come back to you.”  
  
(Route C)

| 

She looked to the waving waters.  
  
(Route C) **Mother Rhoda**

| 

“Remember what happened to your father, after all.”  
  
(Route C)

| 

I became mute.  
  
(Route C) **Mother Rhoda**

| 

“Let not his sacrifices be in vain, child.”  
  
(Route C)

| 

I slowly nodded.  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“Now then,”  
  
| 

She turned to face the Waking Sea.  
  
| 

A black-feathered raptor descended from the clouds and hovered above a scattering white cliff birds.  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“There are two left of the fifteen. Alan’s is now spoken for. I am sure you are concerned for the others.”  
  
(Route A)

| 

_(“Not really.”)_  
  
(Route A) **Edith**

| 

“No matter how I feel, the Empire will take care of them.”  
  
(Route B)

| 

_(“It gives me unease.”)_  
  
(Route B) **Edith**

| 

“How can we trust the Empire to adequately care for them?”  
  
(Route C)

| 

_(“Absolutely.”)_  
  
(Route C) **Edith**

| 

“Thomas and Byron won’t have other options after this. Will the Capital come calling for them?”  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“Despite your reservations, I have done the best I can to send recommendations to the appropriate entities.”  
  
| 

I watched the raptor take a sharp dive at the bevy of cliffbirds.  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“Thomas’ talent will be useful to the Empire, and I promise he won’t be sent to the Spire.”  
  
| 

The crimson bird persisted until it isolated a single small prey.  
  
**Edith**

| 

“And Byron?”  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“I’ve made arrangements to keep him here as long as I can. Guarding the creche is the least we can offer.”  
  
| 

I placed my hands on the stone edges of the bastion walls.  
  
**Edith**

| 

“May I ask you something, Mother Rhoda?”  
  
| 

The small cliffbird clambered in the air. Its bevy had already abandoned it.  
  
**Edith**

| 

“Am I really meant to be the Aegis?”  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“There could be no one else.”  
  
| 

The black raptor extended its talons, its dark shadow descended against the faint background of the emerging moon.  
  
| 

A shriek pierced the silence between us and a deafening thud left the sky fluttering with white feathers.  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“You have a sense of duty and justice is your compass.”  
  
| 

The sea wind gently pushed the white feathers towards us.  
  
| 

I held out my hand to the sky as a single feather landed in my palm. Its edges are splattered with droplets of blood.


	5. Chapter 5

| 

The creche began to stir with an unusual amount of activity as the day wore on.  
  
---|---  
  
| 

After talking with Mother Rhoda, I made my way to the kitchens in search of Thomas. We were on oven duty this week, and today wasn’t an exception.  
  
| 

I walked past a few creche sisters shouting at senior children.  
  
| 

“Gather the flour!”  
  
| 

“Rinse the greens!”  
  
| 

“Prepare the roasts!”  
  
| 

I caught Thomas by the ovens. There were a few large clay structures out in the open. He was standing there in his work uniform: a white linen shirt and a heavy leather apron pinned around his waist.   
  
| 

There was already a bit of sweat streaking his forehead, which he wiped away from his bare forearm. He had his hair pulled back and it gave him a bit of a crest. He’s told me he preferred it that way because he’d look more boyish otherwise.   
  
| 

Byron teases Thomas that the _real_ reason is that it made Thomas look slightly taller.  
  
| 

He crossed his arms and looked to the two children near him.  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“The fire is dying.”  
  
| 

I approach him and he looks up. He shoots me a smile.  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“Evey, thank goodness you’re here. We’re a little short on help.”  
  
| 

He gestured to a pile of logs. There’s an axe cleaved on the cutting block.  
  
| 

One of the children, the boy, snickers.  
  
**Boy**

| 

“...little short.”  
  
| 

Thomas’ gray eyes bolt sharply at him.  
  
(Route A)

| 

(“You know…”)  
  
(Route A) **Edith**

| 

“Thomas is the best wielder in the creche. And he is _still_ taller than you.”  
  
(Route A) **Boy**

| 

“He won’t be for long!”  
  
(Route A) **Thomas**

| 

“You little twerp. When has height had anything to do with wielding?”  
  
(Route A) **Edith**

| 

“Cerna does not prejudice who he blesses with the divine ability.”  
  
(Route A)

| 

I smirk a bit before adjusting my gloves to grab the axe.  
  
(Route A) **Edith**

| 

“Proves to show that we all have plenty to learn from Thomas.”  
  
(Route B) 

| 

_(Laugh.)_  
  
(Route B) **Thomas**

| 

“Goodness, Evey, not you too. Can't I have one day without the short jokes?”  
  
(Route B)

| 

I smirk a bit before adjusting my gloves to grab the axe.  
  
(Route B) **Thomas**

| 

“Besides, I wouldn’t seem so short if _you_ weren’t so tall.”  
  
(Route B)

| 

I playfully punch Thomas on the shoulder and finally take hold of the axe. He chuckles in response.  
  
(Route C) 

| 

“It doesn’t matter.”  
  
(Route C) **Edith**

| 

“Thomas could still whoop you, shortness and all. And aren’t you supposed to be helping?”  
  
(Route C) 

| 

I grab the axe.  
  
(Route C) **Thomas**

| 

“Right, and even while shorter I swear I’ll still be able to give you a piece of my mind.”  
  
(Route C) 

| 

Thomas glances my way and nods. He has an impeccably wide smile.  
  
(Route C) **Thomas**

| 

“Thanks for keeping them in line, Evey.”  
  
| 

The girl next to him began dragging a large pale-colored log across the brick-tiled floor. She whined.  
  
**Girl**

| 

“Why do we have to do this?”  
  
| 

She threw the log messily onto the pile of coal. Smoke is coming out, but there is no blaze.  
  
| 

Thomas responds flatly.  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“Because you have to.”  
  
| 

I raise my axe and swing down. _Klunk!_  
  
| 

The girl reaches out trying to rearrange the blackened logs with her bare hands. She flinches and sucks on her burnt thumb.  
  
**Girl**

| 

“Ouch! Hot!”  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“Goddess save you,”  
  
| 

Thomas sighs and grabs the girl’s hand to examine it.  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“You’re a Rayner. Complaining about the heat is like a fish complaining about the wetness of water.”  
  
| 

I interject.  
  
**Edith**

| 

“Maybe it’s a little too soon for her. She might need a bit more time.”   
  
**Thomas**

| 

“Right. Catherine, stand by Commander Edith there until we get the fire going.”  
  
| 

As the girl slaunters back to me, the boy prods the log with his toe and frowns.   
  
**Thomas**

| 

“And you, get back to work. Burn it.”  
  
**Boy**

| 

“But it’s too hard!”  
  
| 

Thomas nearly glares at him. The boy shrinks a little.  
  
**Boy**

| 

“I can’t-”  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“Why not?”  
  
| 

Catherine outs him.  
  
**Catherine**

| 

“Because he spent all his time flirting with Iris Sabine instead of practicing.”  
  
| 

Thomas throws a disapproving look to the boy.  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“Is that so? Stick your hand in the logs. Let’s see how far you are in your training.”  
  
| 

The boy sighs heavily and reaches to place both hands on the cooling logs. He shuts his eyes.  
  
| 

Nothing happens.   
  
**Boy**

| 

“See? I said-”  
  
| 

Thomas steps over and pulls the back of the boy’s shirt collar down, examining the nape of his neck.   
  
| 

There is a singular piercing at the boy’s neck, and a keystone embedded onto his skin.  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“Nothing looks wrong with your piercing. Still looks a little fresh, though. It hasn’t scarred either.”  
  
| 

Thomas gently brushes gloved fingers around the still-reddened area around the piercing.  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“Here.”  
  
| 

He inched around the boy and held his forearms down into the pile of ash and wood. Thomas pulls off one of his gloves with his teeth.   
  
| 

Thomas leaned into the boy and pressed his fingertips into the boy’s arms.  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“Relax.”  
  
| 

The boy closed his eyes.  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“Focus on the heat, bring it out, slowly now...Flutter your thoughts...”  
  
| 

A soft light emits from the boy’s keystone. It begins to pulsate with a steady rhythm.  
  
| 

_Hum..._  
  
| 

Within an instant the whole fire pit roared ablaze and the logs shouted with loud cracks. The red flames licked the confines of the stone pit like ravenous beasts for flesh.  
  
| 

The boy smiles.  
  
**Boy**

| 

“It’s warm, like a little beating heart.”  
  
| 

The girl exclaims and claps excitedly.  
  
**Catherine**

| 

“Wow! That was great, Thomas!”  
  
| 

Thomas withdrew his arms and motioned to the girl.  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“Now you-stick your hands in it.”  
  
| 

The girl moves from me and wipes her hands on her apron. She kneels while Thomas guides her arms into the already burning fire.  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“Both of you keep them there while the bread bakes. Practice your wielding.”  
  
| 

Thomas stands up from tending the fire and brushes his ashen hands on his apron. He straightens up and watches me chop one log before approaching.  
  
| 

I offer him a small smile.  
  
**Edith**

| 

“The creche will miss your tutelage when you’re gone, Thomas Rayner. Most of all your occasional antics.”  
  
| 

Thomas wipes the back of his neck with one of his hands, smearing sweat and ash over his freckled skin.  
  
| 

There are four keystones embedded on his nape.   
  
**Thomas**

| 

“I swear they wouldn’t be able to handle it if they keep me here.”  
  
| 

He looks to the children nearby and his voice lowers, as if to keep the conversation quiet.  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“So what do you think, Evey? It’s just me and Byron now.”  
  
| 

I take a moment to consider. Thomas stands in front of me with one of his hands on his hips.   
  
**Edith**

| 

“Thomas, it’s not always-”  
  
| 

He takes a step closer to me. His eyes are angled towards mine, though his forehead stops at my chin’s height.  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“Don’t you think? The creche can’t keep me here.”  
  
| 

I bite my lower lip.   
  
**Edith**

| 

“Thomas...”  
  
| 

My mind freezes. I can’t figure out what to say. I realize that he was hoping to be selected by the baron.   
  
| 

Being bought up was his best chance at a secure and steady future. A wielder like him had only one other option.  
  
**Edith**

| 

“Are you...disappointed that Alan was chosen?”  
  
| 

He shakes his head and laughs a little. His gray eyes seem a little duller now.  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“No. Just surprised that being more ordinary saved Alan’s life. We all know he’s too soft. It eases my mind a bit to know he’ll be safe.”  
  
| 

Thomas reaches out to my shoulder.  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“Evey, don’t worry about me.”  
  
**Byron**

| 

“Ho there, covey!”  
  
| 

Thomas jerks back his hand and glances towards the sound. I’m a bit jarred, but take a moment to compose myself.  
  
| 

Byron comes forward with a wooden slab full of unbaked loaves.   
  
| 

We load up the oven as Byron quickly leaves as he appeared.  
  
| 

Thomas and I continue on with our oven duties in silence. Whatever he attempted to say was dashed away by Byron’s interruption.  
  
| 

I’m sure he was going to say something along the lines of how it was for the best, and to reassure me that he was better off leaving to the Capital than any one of us.   
  
| 

He was such a pain in the ass these past years and didn’t always fall in line. Despite that, he was the most competent of us all.   
  
| 

He didn’t deserve the fate that was to befall him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggested Listening: https://youtu.be/Zpewx4kXd_A

| 

The moonlight flickered over resting shores and stars twinkled in the clear night.  
  
---|---  
| 

Below, the beautiful skyscape of the Creche of the Empire brimmed with excited activity.  
  
| 

Creche sisters with their coveys of children came in droves bearing cast iron dishes and baskets of baked goods. They placed the food on long tables of the creche dining hall.  
  
| 

There were piles of freshly baked loaves, mounds of corn cakes, and stacks of fried breads.  
  
| 

The whole dining hall was laden with a rich and savory smell of steamed shellfish, roasts, and vegetables marinated in various spices and sauces from all corners of the Empire.  
  
| 

I stood by an oak table placed at the front of the dining hall. My covey stood beside me, and Alan was at the center.  
  
| 

The baron and all five mother superiors stood with us, as well.  
  
| 

The parade of dishes came to a gentle stop. Under one hundred individuals in the creche dining hall hushed themselves. The covey sisters stood at the head seat of each of their children’s tables.  
  
| 

Mother Rhoda stepped to the center front of the hall, her prayer beads jingled and habit dress swept the worn tiled floor. Her voice called the hall to attention.  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“Creche of the Empire!”  
  
| 

The whole creche responded together.  
  
| 

_“Hail Cerna the Exalted!”_  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“Tonight we are in the midst of a most generous benefactor, the Baron Roland Resnik from the House of Cerna, Rayna of the South.”  
  
| 

We all shouted again.  
  
| 

_“Hail Cerna the Exalted!”_  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“He has agreed to gift the creche twenty keystones in exchange for Alan Aurelius from the House of Cerna, Aurelia of the Soul.”  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“Alan will be wed to Leonora Resnik, daughter to Baron Roland Resnik. He will be inducted into their household and given liberty.”  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“Tonight marks the beginning of Alan’s new life away from the creche.”  
  
| 

The mother superior swung her eyes to Alan, who stood to the baron’s right side. The young man held his breath before shouting with hints of nervousness.  
  
**Alan**

| 

“M-my creche brethren, I will begin a journey to my new homeland in a fortnight.”   
  
| 

Beads of sweat ran down Alan’s face. Public speaking was never his best skill.  
  
| 

Alan paused in imminent silence.  
  
**Alan**

| 

“And in a month’s time, I w-will m-m-marry.”  
  
**Alan**

| 

“I-I will think back of my time in the creche with f-fondness.”   
  
| 

Alan fidgeted with the seams of his gray pants followed by a long delay.  
  
| 

He continued on and eventually he began to ramble about his memories made at the creche.   
  
| 

There was little cohesion in his sloppily stringed words. It was painful to listen to.  
  
| 

Another pause.  
  
| 

_(Cough.)_  
  
| 

Thomas Rayner leaned forward with a closed fist to his mouth.  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“ _Cough_ -mence the banquet.”  
  
| 

Alan stood still.  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“Commence. The. Banq- _cough_.”  
  
| 

_(Clear your throat.)_  
  
(Route A) **Edith**

| 

_“Ahem.”_  
  
(Route A) 

| 

Thomas shifts his gaze to you and desists.   
  
(Route A) 

| 

_(Stomp on Thomas’ foot.)_  
  
(Route B) **Edith**

| 

_“Thomas!”_  
  
(Route B)

| 

He struggled to hold in a yelp.  
  
(Route C)

| 

_(Nudge Thomas with your foot.)_  
  
(Route C)

| 

Thomas shifts his shoulders a little and seems to have gotten the message.  
  
| 

Alan’s large blue eyes widen and his cheeks flush at the sudden realization.  
  
**Alan**

| 

“T-then l-let us commence the banquet!”  
  
| 

The creche joined Thomas in their relief.  
  
| 

_“Hail Cerna the Exalted!”_  
  
| 

Sounds of wooden chairs scratching tiles echo through the hall.  
  
| 

Alan breathed and slumped into his seat next to the baron.  
  
| 

As I’m looking at him he lifts his head to gaze at me with a meek smile.  
  
| 

Byron Nathaniel stays standing and reaches for a large knife by a deer roast.  
  
| 

Baron Roland clicks his tongue.  
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“Mother Rhoda, an observation.”  
  
| 

Byron froze as the mother superior glanced to the baron.  
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“This creche boy doesn’t seem to know the use of slaves.”  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“But your baronship, the creche does not employ slaves. We are self-sufficient.”  
  
| 

She nodded to Byron.  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“Besides, Byron Nathaniel would like to do the honors for Alan. It is his celebration, after all.”  
  
| 

The baron butt in.  
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“That’s not necessary. I came with an envoy. Let them do their duties.”  
  
| 

He waved down a boy who was standing silently at the sides of the hall.  
  
| 

The slave made his way to the baron. He stopped a step with green eyes cast down, waiting for Byron to move.   
  
| 

Byron shifted away with a frown.  
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“This one is on loan from the Duke Aireval. I received him specifically for this trip.”  
  
| 

The baron grinned.  
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“Watch his knifework.”  
  
| 

The boy folded up his crisped white sleeves methodically. As he did so I watched his face.  
  
| 

He was probably not much younger than myself, and had an olive-toned complexion like the baron and had features that were common for people in the east.   
  
| 

The boy grabbed hold of a knife that seemed too unwieldy and large. He went on to slice the roast with uncanny precision and speed.  
  
| 

After he had extracted enough meat, he pinched and rolled the slices in tight rose-shaped mounds.  
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“Eating for sustenance is for animals. Eating for pleasure and entertainment, well, is for men of the east.”  
  
| 

I shot glances at my creche brothers before noticing that my lower lip had loosened in a soft gawk.  
  
| 

The boy plated the food with a bit of orange sauce and a sprig of parsley. He leant in to gently slide the dishes to each person at the head table.  
  
| 

As he handed me my plate I intercepted him and grabbed the bottom. I spoke softly.  
  
**Edith**

| 

“It’s alright, I can-”  
  
| 

The boy paused stiff. His eyes shifted from its downcast angle straight to me, but I couldn’t tell if he understood.  
  
| 

I could feel his fingers pressing the plate down insistently while keeping eye contact.   
  
| 

I wanted him to know I could take care of it myself, that I didn’t need to be served.  
  
| 

When I saw one of his dark brown eyebrows narrow lightly I relented. The white plate slid before me with a loud clunk.  
  
| 

Heat rises to the tips of my ears but I’m relieved to notice that no one had paid attention to us.  
  
**Edith**

| 

“T-thank you,”  
  
| 

I didn’t like this.  
  
| 

The baron only seemed to notice that the head table had gotten quiet over watching slaves serve us our dishes. He laughed.  
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“Why such long faces? Come, we must have music to brighten our spirits!”  
  
| 

He snapped his fingers and several boys came forward with musical instruments in the crook of their arms.  
  
| 

The baron shouted a few phrases in a glottal tongue and one boy began to play softly on a wooden pipe.   
  
| 

The other musicians followed with their flutes and finger cymbals. The verse was slow and steady.  
  
| 

A troop of performers began to make their way to the center of the hall, slowly posing themselves in different elegant positions.  
  
| 

Suddenly a drum slammed the whole crowd awake. The flutes shrilled in a frenzied pace and the mass of people began to dance in a synchronized fashion.  
  
| 

The creche children began smiling and clapping along. The youngest of them began to trod in the center as well to dance frantically along.  
  
| 

And as almost as it sped up, the music paused. The song began to twist into a different mood. Musicians plucked their instruments in discordance.  
  
| 

The performers began singing a slow and melodious poem.  
  
| 

The baron pressed his elbow onto the dining table and swallowed some chewed fat. He translated, although no one had asked him to:  
  
| 

_He who holds the heart of the west_

_Will bear the blades and spears for victory_  
  
| 

_With thine eyes like the purest of light_

_That can eclipse the darkest of skies_  
  
| 

_Gathered are the powers that parch our lungs and thirst our people_

_This is thine righteous land, Exhalted Cerna of the Highest_  
  
| 

_Now we are of sand’ry dunes and jewels of Aurelia_

_This is thine righteous land, Exhalted Cerna of the Highest_  
  
| 

_As we offer our maiden Natalia to you_  
  
| 

All the mother superiors spoke in unison as the song ended.  
  
**Mother Superiors**

| 

“Blessed be.”  
  
| 

The Baron Roland then gestured to another slave boy who held a white ceramic pitcher. He exchanged a few foreign words to the slave.  
  
| 

The boy poured a sparkling clear beverage into a small round cup.  
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“From the distilleries of my barony.”  
  
| 

He pushed the cup towards Mother Rhoda.  
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“The finest in the Empire.”  
  
| 

Mother Rhoda kept her face straight as she eyed her cup. She took it to her lips to sip.   
  
| 

Her face displayed neither pleasure nor disgust.  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“This burning flavor is indicative of the east. An acquired taste, indeed.”  
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“And for you, young Alan Aurelius-”  
  
| 

I widened my eyes to Alan, who had just swallowed a mouthful of mashed potatoes. The baron offered him an empty white cup.  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“Baron Roland, he-”  
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“He is a _man_ , is he not?”  
  
| 

The mother superior’s lips tightened and I shot a sympathetic look her way.  
  
| 

Alan’s fingertips grazed the edges of the small cup before he breathed.  
  
**Alan**

| 

“T-then, I will not reject your offer.”  
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“Serve him, boy!”  
  
| 

The slave child kept his eyes low and poured some of the contents of his pitcher into Alan’s cup.  
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“Now drink! Drink with me! You are now my son to be, are you not? I must train you to drink like the men of the east!”  
  
| 

Alan glanced back and forth between the baron and Mother Rhoda before taking the cup and downing its contents.  
  
| 

Alan covered his mouth in a dry choke. His usually bright blue eyes were strained with red veins.  
  
| 

The baron guffawed.  
  
**Baron Roland**

| 

“You see? He is a man. He does not need his mother superior any longer. Goddess save the creche for keeping your boys coddled like tiny mewlings.”  
  
| 

I whipped my head to Mother Rhoda, about to protest, but I feel her hand from underneath the table.  
  
| 

Her fingers graze my elbow. Her voice is soft.  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“It’s fine, child.”  
  
(Route A)

| 

_(“Alan looks sick!”)_  
  
(Route B)

| 

_(“Impermissible.”)_  
  
(Route C)

| 

_(“What’s in that drink?!”)_  
  
| 

Mother Rhoda offered me an apologetic smile.  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“Just be glad that he will not be at any more of our banquets.”


	7. Chapter 7

| 

The evening carried on at the Creche of the Empire.  
  
---|---  
| 

The baron’s musicians and dancers continued to play exotic melodies and later indulged us with performances of light acrobatics and small feats of wonder.  
  
| 

After the last round of applause, the coveys lined up to greet Alan Aurelius at the head table.  
  
| 

Luckily the baron excused himself and his entourage at this point.   
  
| 

They wished him well en masse, sometimes in the form of a song led by their covey sister or a communal gift.  
  
| 

I particularly enjoyed watching the youngest coveys, with their tiny bodies and uncoordinated efforts to dance and song.   
  
| 

But once the second to last covey bid their goodbyes and left the dining hall, it was our turn.   
  
| 

Even the mother superiors were absent now. Alan sat with a beaming smile while Thomas, Byron, and I gathered around him under dimming candle lights.  
  
| 

It was customary to receive a gift from each in the covey, once their path had been decided and a feast held for them.  
  
| 

I was aware that typical children growing up would celebrate birthdays with presents, but creche children were never afforded that until we left.  
  
| 

Whatever we decided to gift had to be something worthwhile and meaningful, and creating Alan’s gift was a bit of a project for me over the years.  
  
**Alan**

| 

“What’s this?”  
  
| 

Alan uncovered a paper box given to him by Byron. As he took off its top a mortar and pestle presented itself.  
  
**Alan**

| 

“Marble! T-thank you, Byron.”  
  
| 

Byron smirked and patted Alan’s shoulder.  
  
| 

Alan’s talent for alchemy would see many uses for this.   
  
| 

Thomas slid him a paper-wrapped gift.  
  
| 

As Alan uncovered it he saw that it was Thomas’ old bedtime children’s book. It was gifted to the creche through charity and there was a scuffle between them on who would actually have it.  
  
| 

Thomas won the bet that day, but he still read the book to Alan at bedtime.  
  
| 

Alan laughed softly while his bare fingertips brushed against the worn leather jacket.  
  
**Alan**

| 

“I remember this,”  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“Ah, there’s a note inside, too.”  
  
| 

Alan turned the cover and read the small inscription quietly. He looked up with his eyes a little watered. Whether it was from some emotional response or simply the alcohol, it wasn’t clear.  
  
**Alan**

| 

“I’ll treasure this.”  
  
| 

I gently held my gift to him in a cotton handkerchief and peeled away the sides.  
  
| 

A small mechanical bird with bright paper wings rested in m palms.  
  
**Edith**

| 

“Here,”  
  
| 

Alan gasped and took the item in his hands like a precious egg. I pointed to the metal winding key on its side.  
  
| 

Alan cranked it a few times and as he released it, the bird’s wings beat rapidly.  
  
| 

It levitated above us and flew away in a graceful arc. Its colored wings created a lovely prism tailing behind it.   
  
| 

Thomas and Byron laughed and chased it down the hall. But it was never a contest on who would catch the mechanical bird first.  
  
| 

Byron leapt up and grabbed it midair. Thomas rolled his eyes and shrugged his way back to us.  
  
**Alan**

| 

“It’s beautiful, Evey.”  
  
| 

My lips curled into a smile for him.  
  
**Alan**

| 

“I-I…”  
  
| 

He wiped his large bright eyes with his wrist.  
  
Route A

| 

_(Resist crying.)_  
  
Route B

| 

_(Hug him.)_  
  
Route C

| 

_(Rub his shoulder.)_  
  
| 

Alan rubbed his eyes a bit more before he motioned to Byron.  
  
**Alan**

| 

“Here, Byron,”  
  
| 

He handed him a few vials from a crate underneath the table. The ether contained in it glowed with a soft blue light.  
  
**Byron**

| 

“Flight potions! Thank you, Alan. This’ll be of use.”  
  
**Alan**

| 

“And for you, Evey,”  
  
| 

He handed me a small package wrapped in plain brown paper. I heard it jingle lightly and pulled its velvet ribbon apart.  
  
| 

It was a steel bracelet with four keystones. My jaw dropped.  
  
| 

Byron and Thomas whistled in unison.  
  
**Edith**

| 

“Alan, I-”  
  
**Alan**

| 

“The s-same exact keystones my mother brought with her.”  
  
**Alan**

| 

“I t-tried to use them myself but, well…”  
  
| 

Alan rubbed the nape of his neck. It was then that I noticed that he had taken off all his piercings.  
  
**Alan**

| 

“They’re better in your care.”  
  
| 

I can’t find any words to utter and throw my arms around him in a tight embrace.  
  
| 

Alan then pulled out another package wrapped in brown paper, tied with a hemp string.  
  
| 

He presented it to Thomas, who in turn grinned.  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“I can tell by its smell that it’s fire resistant.”  
  
| 

Thomas unwrapped the package, revealing a set of crisp white button-up shirts and a pair of leather fingerless gloves.  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“We’re going to miss you, Alan Aurelius.”  
  
| 

Alan’s face grew more solemn as he kept eye contact with Thomas.  
  
**Alan**

| 

“I-I’m so sorry Thomas-”  
  
| 

Thomas closed his gray eyes and coyly smiled through his words.  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“What are you talking about?”  
  
| 

Alan was wiping tears away from his eyes now.  
  
**Alan**

| 

“You’re going to be sent to the C-Capital. I-It’s my fault...”  
  
| 

Thomas glanced at me. He looked back to Alan and ruffled his hair.  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“Silly.”  
  
| 

I bit my lower lip. I wanted to cry too. Thomas was going to the Capital. There was no denying that now.  
  
| 

And going to the Capital meant training for the most dangerous livelihood for a wielder.  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“I’m going to be fine.”  
  
| 

Alan’s crying didn’t seem to get better.  
  
(Route A)

| 

_(“He’s right.”)_  
  
(Route A)

| 

My firm reaction caused the three boys to look at me.  
  
(Route A) **Edith**

| 

“Thomas is one of the best. Not even our current creche guardsmen can compete.”  
  
(Route A) **Edith**

| 

“We should trust in him and in the Empire.”  
  
(Route B)

| 

_(“It’s not fair.”)_  
  
(Route B) **Edith**

| 

“Thomas shouldn’t need to go to the Capital. It shouldn’t be his job to begin with.”  
  
(Route B) **Byron**

| 

“I concur with her.”  
  
(Route B) **Thomas**

| 

“Evey, please. It’s not a big deal.”  
  
(Route B) **Edith**

| 

“It _is._ You’re going to be fodder. There has to be another way.”  
  
(Route B) **Thomas**

| 

“There isn’t though, Edith. Who else can we trust?”  
  
(Route B) **Byron**

| 

“It should be voluntary, bringing up creche children just to-”  
  
(Route B)

| 

Alan’s cries deepened into sobs.  
  
(Route B) **Thomas**

| 

“Now look what you’ve done, Byron, you’re making him cry more.”  
  
(Route B) **Byron**

| 

“What did I do? I’m just-”  
  
(Route B) **Edith**

| 

“Wait, we should stop.”  
  
(Route B) **Edith**

| 

“Alan wouldn’t want us to fight like this on his feast day.”  
  
(Route B)

| 

Alan nodded through his whimpers.  
  
(Route C)

| 

_(“Don’t you trust in Thomas?”)_  
  
(Route C)

| 

Byron gave me stunned silence.  
  
(Route C) **Edith**

| 

“He is one of the best. The Hunters will train him well, and our Empire will be safer because of him.”  
  
(Route C) **Edith**

| 

“It might not be right with everyone, but it’s the best the creche can do. We need to be encouraging, not fearful.”  
  
| 

Byron tensed his lips and nodded.  
  
(Route C) **Thomas**

| 

“Thank you for your vote of confidence, Evey.”  
  
| 

As the three of us stood there, Alan softened his cries and composed himself from his seat.  
  
**Alan**

| 

“O-our creche days are over…”  
  
| 

The four of us then glance at one another in melancholy silence.


	8. Chapter 8

| 

I used to share my bed quarters with three other creche sisters.  
  
---|---  
| 

I enter my room and pull a balled chain hanging against a wallpapered surface.  
  
| 

A caged bulb illuminates the room. It’s bare and absent of any personal touches save for my corner.  
  
| 

There’s a mirror standing near two simple wooden armoires.  
  
| 

I’m tall enough that I have to step a considerable distance away from the mirror.  
  
| 

I first reach down to kick off my black leather boots and begin unbuttoning my melton gray jacket, starting with the mandarin collar.  
  
| 

I peel the wool garment away from my shoulders and work on my white shirt.  
  
| 

I lay both items on the edge of my bed. I’m now in my undergarments.  
  
| 

It’s a lightweight chemise over a waist cincher, one of the gifts I received from my other creche sisters.  
  
| 

I turn a bit in front of the mirror to examine myself. My skin has a warm porcelain quality to it under the flickering bulb light.  
  
| 

As I am about to unclasp my cincher I hear a knock at the door.  
  
| 

I open it ajar with my bare shoulder peeking out.  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“Ah! Evey, uh-”  
  
| 

Thomas sharply turns his head with a hand over his brow.  
  
(Route A)

| 

_(Excuse yourself.)_  
  
(Route A) **Edith**

| 

“Oh, just a moment.”  
  
(Route A)

| 

I throw on my blouse untucked and I open the door further. I gesture to him.  
  
(Route A)

| 

Thomas lowers his hand and gives out a sigh of relief. He strolls into the room.  
  
(Route A)

| 

I close the door behind us.  
  
(Route B)

| 

_(Assure him you’re still dressed.)_  
  
(Route B)

| 

Thomas lowers his hand with a cocked brow. A gray eye shifts up and down.  
  
(Route B) **Thomas**

| 

“Uh, no.”  
  
(Route B)

| 

I glance at my own bare shoulders. It isn’t as if he hadn’t seen me naked before.  
  
(Route B)

| 

Well, not for the past few years at least.  
  
(Route B) **Thomas**

| 

“Please put on a shirt.”  
  
(Route B)

| 

I apologize and throw on my blouse untucked.   
  
(Route B)

| 

Thomas carefully steps into the room while rubbing the back of his neck.  
  
(Route B)

| 

I close the door behind us.  
  
(Route C)

| 

_(Invite him in.)_  
  
(Route C)

| 

Thomas lowers his hand with a cocked brow. A widened gray eye shifts up and down.  
  
(Route C) **Thomas**

| 

“But I could see-”  
  
(Route C)

| 

He turns his eyes away.  
  
(Route C) **Edith**

| 

“Oh, it’s not like you’ve never seen me like this before.”  
  
(Route C) **Thomas**

| 

“We were children!”  
  
(Route C)

| 

I roll my eyes and grab one of his wrists. He makes a noise of protest while I jerk him into the room.  
  
(Route C) **Thomas**

| 

“Evey, stop!”  
  
(Route C)

| 

His voice is firm and deep. It takes me by surprise.  
  
(Route C) **Thomas**

| 

“Don’t insult me like this.”  
  
(Route C) **Thomas**

| 

“You’re a _lady_.”  
  
(Route C)

| 

I realize that I might’ve hurt his pride.   
  
(Route C) **Edith**

| 

“Ah, I’m sorry.”  
  
(Route C)

| 

I throw on my blouse untucked and I close the door.  
  
(Route C)

| 

Thomas turns his head back to me once he hears the door shut.  
  
| 

Thomas takes a minute to exhale and collect himself.  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“I think I saw one of the slave boys sneaking around Mother Rhoda’s study.”  
  
**Edith**

| 

“You think?”  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“It was that one that could use a big knife.”  
  
| 

My mind went back to the roast.  
  
| 

I fold my arms and hold my elbows.  
  
**Edith**

| 

“Shouldn’t you alert Baron Roland about it?”  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“It wouldn’t feel right until-”  
  
| 

A loud shout echoed down the chamber hallways. It interrupts Thomas’ sentence.  
  
| 

Thomas’ lips tighten and our ears perk. The creche bells are ringing.  
  
| 

More shouting. It was a woman’s voice.  
  
| 

_Thomas Rayner! Edith Victoria! Report!_  
  
| 

I open the door and lean out. Children are exiting their rooms to evacuate the building.  
  
| 

A young creche sister runs up to my door. She is winded and panting.   
  
**Creche Sister**

| 

“A Reckoning has gone wrong.”  
  
| 

I quickly turn to open my armoire to pull out a fitted leather doublet.  
  
| 

Thomas pauses and his gray orbs dart on me.  
  
| 

I keep eye contact with him while lacing the doublet shut.  
  
**Creche Sister**

| 

“H-he didn’t tell anyone about his dreams. His covey is out by the shore.”  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“Fuck! I need a focus.”  
  
**Edith**

| 

“I have striking thimbles, here-”  
  
| 

I grab a small velvet satchel and toss it to Thomas. He catches it in one hand.  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“I’ll meet you there.”  
  
| 

He’s already running out as I pull my boots back on.  
  
| 

My eyes shift to the steel bracelet that Alan gave me.  
  
**Edith**

| 

“This’ll do.”  
  
\---

| 

I rush outside the creche bastions and walls and into the open grassy fields.  
  
---|---  
| 

Within a stone’s throw I could see the commotion by the sandy shores.   
  
| 

A dozen bodies lay strewn and moaning. A severed limb trips one of my steps.  
  
| 

_Oh...Cerna..._  
  
| 

I could see something by the edge of the water. A small body is wailing out in a high pitched scream.   
  
| 

The pale moonlight reflects several growths of jutted metal.  
  
| 

The shadowy mass begins to meld and form plates around it, and it sounds like rods of iron grinding against one another.  
  
| 

A few creche guards have circled around the demonic form. One guard is facing towards the shore with a conjured shield, lit like a spectral wall.  
  
| 

Shrieks pierce the chilly night air and a scythed tail strikes the guard.  
  
| 

He grunts and successfully blocks it with his shield, causing the tail to bounce off with a loud crash.  
  
| 

The young guard’s face is worn and ragged. He’s from a covey a few years before me.  
  
| 

Byron is not too far away loading a rifle. He’s aiming for the creature’s back.  
  
| 

An audience of distraught children stand nearby.  
  
| 

Some are wailing and reaching out to the water, huddling and weeping together in their embraced helplessness.  
  
| 

Other children stood numbly with their foreheads in their hands, screaming and crying out to Cerna for mercy.  
  
| 

I grab the shoulders of a stunned creche sister.  
  
**Edith**

| 

“Sister!”  
  
| 

The creche sister’s face is ashen gray with streaks of tears.  
  
**Creche Sister**

| 

“W-we were only trying to gather sea shells...”  
  
| 

Her face was stunned. I glance around and find myself short of any possible help.  
  
**Edith**

| 

“Why aren’t you taking the children away?”  
  
| 

The creche sister’s lip quavered.   
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“Get the children away, _now._ ”  
  
| 

Mother Rhoda approaches us, her black cleric habits descending upon us like a ghost. I notice that Alan is not far behind her already tending the injured.  
  
| 

His messenger bag is heavy with pomaces and salves. His hands are already stained from blood and various herbal concoctions.  
  
| 

A look of relief crosses Mother Rhoda’s face once the creche sister snaps to.  
  
| 

She looks to me.  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“You need to switch out, he’s almost at his limit.”  
  
| 

Her eyes examine around me.  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“Where is Thomas?”  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“Here.”  
  
| 

I glance back and hear an unreal scream. The sound breaks into a monstrous roar. The mass has grown inward into an enormous void. Reberating sounds echo against the sea’s song.  
  
| 

It’s beginning to melt into a grotesque form.  
  
| 

It becomes a black beast with claws and teeth.  
  
| 

The creche guard in its sight takes a few steps back, readying himself.  
  
**Mother Rhoda**

| 

“Go!”  
  
| 

I run towards the waters and Thomas follows closely behind.  
  
| 

We run past Byron, who is loading another round in his wooden rifle and taking aim.  
  
**Byron**

| 

“What took you so long?!”  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“As long as we could manage!”  
  
| 

Byron discharges his rifle. _Bang!_  
  
**Edith**

| 

“Focus!”  
  
| 

I look at my bracelet and as I’m running, I focus my energy inward.  
  
| 

My mind flutters as I conjure a shield around my forearm. Alan’s keystones are glittering at its core and the spectral weapon is nearly solid.  
  
| 

The creche guard sees me charging and he nods before a black mass swipes him back to the shore.  
  
| 

His body flies and lands in a thud, but his scream is evidence that he’s still alive.  
  
| 

I leap forward and exhale. My swing my shield and its edge bashes into the monster’s side.  
  
| 

The black form turns to me, its four frenzied eye, red slit pupils, narrow at me.  
  
| 

In a flash there’s a scythed tail grinding into my shield.  
  
| 

The force pushes my knee onto the ground, but I hold well. My muscles are tensing.  
  
| 

I blink once. A soothing hum conjures a spectral blade into my right hand.  
  
| 

I focus energy in my veins and both spectral sword and shield solidify into steel, glowing with the same light prisms of keystones.  
  
| 

I could see Thomas standing behind the demon. His posture tells me he’s ready and shouts.  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“Evey!”  
  
**Edith**

| 

“It’s on me!”  
  
| 

I could hear a familiar shrill where Thomas stood.  
  
| 

His keystones sang into a high pitch. The sound was deafening.  
  
| 

He throws one arm up.  
  
| 

_Snap!_  
  
| 

A hailstorm of bright lightning bolts shoot down from the heavens and straight to the demon.  
  
| 

Cracking thunder follows it, shaking the sky.  
  
| 

Heat flares out from the edges of my shield, but I feel no burning sensation.  
  
| 

The monster’s mouth hinges open with its sharpened teeth, it attempts to chomp down on me.  
  
| 

I pivot on a heel and swing my blade, slashing the creature.  
  
| 

The creature’s blood ribbons out and sprays at my shield.  
  
| 

As I exhale I feel the warmth of splatter at the side of my face.   
  
| 

A bullet had successfully shot through one of the demon’s eyes. A creeping of thin white vines begin to climb out from the gape.  
  
| 

I push back with force. I could hear more people gathering. I glance from the edge of my shield and see that Baron Roland has arrived.  
  
| 

A few from his envoy are loading up rifles. An unarmed woman, most possibly a wielder, positions herself by Thomas. The two share a few unheard shouts.  
  
| 

I could hear a loud explosion and the whizzing sound of a cannonball shot from the bastion. It lands by me and kicks the sand at my direction. I block the wave with my shield.  
  
| 

_Snap!_  
  
| 

A blinding form descends from the night clouds, swift and raging.  
  
| 

Thunderclaps follow and a flurry of spectral arrows slam down at the creature, breaking through its metal hide.  
  
| 

It roars and swipes its enormous paw at me. I manage to deflect its impact with the flat of my shield.  
  
| 

I see the water near me swaying and another singing voice joining.  
  
| 

As the tide moves in the baron’s wielder pulls the water further inward to her body.  
  
| 

A flurry of spears fly towards the demon and I hold up my shield to protect myself from the icy hail.  
  
| 

I slam the bottom of my shield into the monster’s flesh to keep its focus on me.  
  
| 

As it throws its head back I jut my sword forward to stab it.  
  
(Route A)

| 

_(Stay in place.)_  
  
(Route A)

| 

I could feel the creature’s hot breath spraying spittle at me.  
  
(Route A)

| 

The smell is awful. It smells like decay.  
  
(Route A)

| 

I swing both sword and shield forward, stabbing it once more on its shoulder.  
  
(Route B)

| 

_(Pull the creature further into the water.)_  
  
(Route B)

| 

I take a few steps backwards into the swishing sea waters.   
  
(Route B)

| 

My toes curl a little in the cooling waves.  
  
(Route B)

| 

Another high pitched shriek.  
  
(Route B)

| 

Rapid icicles rip from the waters from beneath the creature, stabbing tiny needles into its underbelly.  
  
(Route C)

| 

_(Push the creature onto the land.)_  
  
(Route C)

| 

I double down and take steps forward leaning against my shield and pushing the monster backwards onto the shore.  
  
(Route C)

| 

_Snap!_  
  
(Route C)

| 

A cracking torrent of flames spew from Thomas’ hand like a flamethrower. I could hear and smell crackling bits of flesh burning before he pulls back.  
  
(Route C)

| 

The creature is screaming. Its’ demonic howl rings in my ears.  
  
| 

Another cannonball bursts through and smacks the demon down. A splash of red blood gushes out to its side.  
  
| 

_Snap!_  
  
| 

I feel the inevitable heat of Thomas’ wielding again.  
  
| 

A fire tornado dances towards me like a maddening storm wind. I brace myself and focus inward.  
  
| 

As the flames makes its way to the demon my keystones are humming, creating a gentle spectral barrier around me.   
  
| 

The fire licks around my shield while I endure the impact of the flaring storm.   
  
| 

It passes and I lower my shield to see the burning form of the demon before me.  
  
| 

Mother Rhoda and others are rushing forward and my shield slowly fades into tiny light mists.  
  
| 

Thomas is one of the first to come to me.  
  
| 

Sweat runs heavy at his jaws. I could only focus on his gray eyes before looking back down.  
  
**Thomas**

| 

“Evey,”  
  
| 

The black mass before us sinks into the ground, sizzling away and eventually exposing the burnt naked form of a boy on the ground.  
  
| 

Half of his torso had been ripped off and his blood is seeping into the sand.   
  
| 

One eye had been shot through his ash-dusted face. The other is gaped open, black from death.  
  
| 

My eyes remain unmoving on him as my ears are filled with the sobbing cries of the creche.


End file.
